


Will you miss me?

by quartzspirit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Hale fire, Heavy Angst, I don't know what I've done, M/M, blame microsoft word, derek is angsty shit, everytime but this time it's not physically, i know what i'm doing james, i'm a very dumb person, i'm sorry for spelling mistakes, nononono don't get confused, scott and allison are just adorable dorks, somehow very confusing, stiles gets hurt, stiles is more angsty shit, there's some shit about time, this is easy if you find the right way to read, this is not okay but i don't care, this is the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:09:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzspirit/pseuds/quartzspirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't know but Stiles does.<br/>What's done is done and can't be undone.<br/>That's why he ends up dying and everything goes the wrong way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The flow

_Stiles doesn’t look up._

_He doesn’t look up from his books and he doesn’t look up from his phone because he likes it. Maybe it’s his awkwardness, maybe it’s his mental illness. Maybe it’s just his friends he lost at once since he’s become an antisocial person. Maybe it’s the problems his dad has to deal with and he feels so helpless, rather empty. Maybe it’s just everything and his brain rejects to continue on working like a good brain should._

**_“Sinking into lies_ **

**_Oh swirling oceans of_ **

**_The souls you killed_ **

**_Shouldn’t they all just die?”_ **

_He avoids crowds._

_He tries to avoid people because it hurts when they slowly separate themselves from you. It’s his fault and that doesn’t help the hole that’s growing in his stomach. That’s probably why he throws up after having a meal by himself._

_On rare occasions Scott will tell him how skinny he looks and ask him silly questions. Stiles knows that love is great and Allison is a nice girl. She always invites him to movie nights but he always says no. Scott’s not his friend anymore, he doesn’t care._

****

**_“Silly boy alone_ **

**_Oh you know what_ **

**_The life will promise_ **

**_You not a tiny thing.”_ **

_He hates the distance between his thoughts._

_There’s a gap. He’s tried to build a bridge once to connect his swirl of ideas and he’s simply failed._

_It’s something he doesn’t speak of. Nobody wants to know anyway, not Allison, not the sheriff, not his hamster Puffball._

_He’s all alone by himself._

 

The boy with the black framed glasses squinted at the bright screen, messing up his brown hair with slim, long fingers and muttered several curses under his breath. Scott left him a message on Facebook and that could only mean he wasn’t going to Lydia’s party. Well that was shit because Scott was invited in the first place. Stiles tagged along. He wasn’t popular, he was invisible so he didn’t do parties as often as a healthy teenager should.

So what now? He sighed.

“Mom? Do you still have to work,” he shouted.

“Not now honey! The Hales are here!”

 

_He doesn’t remember when it’s started to go downside for him. Hell, he doesn’t even remember his last proper dinner with his family. His dad is just there, breathing but broken and hurt and Stiles is sure that man doesn’t need a child with issues. He wouldn’t do that to him after his mother, not after she left them or the letter of his school informing his parents that he’s skipped school way too often._

**_“In the end_ **

**_You’re a broken_ **

**_Toy which I threw_ **

**_Far way, aren’t you?”_ **

The Hale family was nice and rich and drinks their tea with exactly one tea spoon honey. They were the perfect group of people to get involved with when your parents think education and manners were way too important for surviving in the society nowadays.

Stiles went downstairs and as expected they were chattering with blinding smiles and exchanging stories of former lives or so he guessed.

 

“Stiles.” Mrs. Hale gave him an amused look, probably because of his terrible bed hair and his sweatpants with coffee stains.

 

“Aww, he looks adorable as always, doesn’t he Derek?” Laura, the second oldest giggled. Stiles was tempted to roll his eyes at her, but he saw his mother's quirked eyebrow and that couldn't end well for him.

 

_And then they’re found dead in a burned down house. Derek’s survived._

_Stiles grimaces. The gloomy young ones always do. But Stiles isn’t gloomy. He will get drowned._

_“You know, I can see you,” he’s told Derek before and smiled at him._

_How powerful he was then._

_How strong Derek seemed then._

_How pathetic everything is now._

_The tears aren’t coming, so he shrugs and stares at the ceiling of his jeep._

**_“Do you still_ **

**_Know how to breathe in_ **

**_While getting ripped in_ **

**_Unnecessary pieces?”_ **

“You know far too much about the Internet!” Derek frowned and drank his coffee, too hot to be drinkable.

They were sitting at the table in the back, watching the rain poured down over the small town and looking at Stiles' smartphone.

“Well, I don’t have anything to do, Derek!” Stiles replied only a little self-aware because Derek was one of those guys, girls would drool over and not that Stiles was a girl, but he did that too. When Derek was kind and all patient. Or furious and angry. Or being moody again.

That meant all the time.

“You’re awesome and I’m sure you’d love Kate!” What a cliché. The stupid, ugly boy with a too loud mouth had a giant crush on a straight porn star.

“Yeah, sure.” He gave his excited friend a tiny grin.

 

_The wind is howling way too loud. It’s too cold in here. He wants to throw up._

_Stiles shudders, sinking deeper into the leather jacket with the last bit smell of home. With the last bit of something he can hold onto._

_“Stiles, I thought she loved me. I loved her.”_

_Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab._

_He grits his teeth._

_“She is so beautiful, can you imagine? I mean don’t, seriously don’t!”_

_It cuts so deeply, right at the base of the neck and working slowly up to his forehead._

_“She’s the only one for me. She sees me as who I am.”_

_Two strong hands slowly drown him in the depth of the sea._

_“Stiles? Are you listening?”_

_“I am listening, Derek.”_

**_“In your head you_ **

**_Hear me telling the_ **

**_Bitter truth and say,_ **

**_Do you believe it?”_ **

Kate is a gorgeous person, with a body shaped like a model and no wonder Derek fell for her. The only thing which disturbed Stiles was the age difference and the looks she gave Derek when she thought nobody saw her.

It wasn’t the kind of looks full of lust or love Stiles would imagine on the face of two lovebirds.

It was triumph.

It was dangerous.

But Derek seemed to be happy, relaxed, so Stiles just ignored it.

It was for the sake of love, right?

 

_“Why didn’t you say anything?”_

_He didn’t want to hurt him._

_“Why didn’t you slap me while you could? Told me I’m being dumb?”_

_He didn’t want to hurt him._

_“Why did you even care? Hoped to get laid?”_

_He didn’t want to hurt him._

_But he got hurt too much it could never heal._

_Derek ripped Stiles’ heart and brain with his teeth out of his body, blood splattered all over his torso. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t._

**_“Poor darling in_ **

**_The sweetest honey of_ **

**_The summer, you_ **

**_Have left too fast.”_ **

They didn’t speak after the incident. Losing and crying, the burning anger-each worse than the other. Derek didn’t know. All he knew was that his family was gone and how it left those murderous wishes that Kate Argent should pay for it. She should suffer and bleed out her disgusting, little heart in front of him. But he didn't go for her, instead Derek accused Stiles, threw him out and Derek still didn’t know anything.

Stiles kept his mouth shut, stubbornly and kept distance between everybody. That wasn’t hard because nobody cared anymore. They all disappeared with the last flames, the last sparks.

Nothing but ashes.

 

_His phone dies after he accidentally splashed water over it._

_The boy hisses at the black Blueberry but it doesn’t answer. Just staying dead like everything stays dead when they die._

_“Dude, I know that you believe in that happy ending of yours but there is something not right.”_

_He closes his eyes, inhales through his flared nostrils._

_“Stiles, you’re talking bullshit again, c’mon.”_

_Derek looks ridiculous when he snorts._

_“You're just jealous you're still single" he continues._

_Irritation creeps into his veins, eats him._

_That disgusting mouth with the red lipstick suddenly turns into a grin of madness and Stiles knows when he has lost the game, he always does._

_“He loves me, not you, little guy.”_

**_“This is a never_ **

**_Ending circle_ **

**_Of the dreams someone_ **

**_Has ever made.”_ **

His mother died only a week after the Hales were all murdered in their slumber, but nobody knew except him and his dad.

Nobody fussed over him and he was thankful for that. Well, Laura and Derek didn’t even realize that there was something wrong about Stiles but he understood.

Losing one parent was nothing to compare with losing your whole family, he got it. So he acted like everything was great and lied and cheated. He feigned ignorance, the only way that allowed him to keep his mind together. He kept silent about the Hale fire when someone asked and treated it as a minor inconvenience. And most important: He blocked out Derek's anger and sadness. Stiles didn't know how to help him at all, so in the end he started to avoid him, always careful not to offend the last two Hales, but it became more and more difficult with Derek's questioning stares. Then they argued in the break and Stiles got slammed violently against the wall and his books fell out of his bag. He didn't say anything, just picked up his stuff and ran like a coward. After all, it would be better for Derek this way and Stiles would know that he made the right decision.

Derek obviously accepted that because the very next day in school, Stiles got shoved against lockers by Derek's cool friends. The black haired one didn't intervene. It was okay. It was for the best after all, Stiles kept thinking as he hobbled to the next class.

He could deal with pain. Physical pain was less agonizing than sadness and his noisy mind. He didn’t care. It was for the best. He repeated the words slowly again before entering the room to his left.

He only wanted Derek to get over it.

What a stupid little wish it was.

 

_“Stiles? What’re you doing here?” There are concerned eyes and curly blond hairs. He likes the color and the voice and he likes everything but he tells himself he can’t._

_“I dunno, just...you know?” Stiles makes an awkward gesture. Isaac Lahey is a tall, witty guy with blue eyes that sparkle when he talks about things he's passionate about and he’s also a sort of "confusion and self hate"-detector including other complicated, aggravating emotions. But Stiles doesn’t do them anymore so it’s alright._

_“Can I join,” Isaac asks already pulling at the door and Stiles lets him because that boy’s a pure cinnamon roll and you don’t be an ass to pastries. Instead, he huffs annoyed which basically means "you're alright", or so he's read. Admittedly, he just wants to appear unapproachable and cool. And be alone forever because he needs to take a break from this hellish world and he wants to sleep._

_“Shit Stiles, you look terrible.”_

_Forget about the cinnamon roll._

**_“I’ve come to true_ **

**_Strength by_ **

**_Defeating my own_ **

**_Enemy. Myself.”_ **

“I hate you.”

It shouldn’t surprise him or knock the air out of his lungs but it did.

He wore a red hoodie, Derek’s favorite one as he always insisted that it suited him well. There was the metallic taste of blood on his lips and the smell of wrongness. He couldn’t see much with one eye swollen and itchy but he guessed that Derek stood in front of him, looking down on his tired body and letting words do their things.

“Stiles.”

He bit back a sob and the tears and the frustrated noises stored in his bones.

Hands touched his cheeks, soft and caring but the words were cold and hard.

“I don’t want to see you again.”

The grass rustled and the last part of Stiles was gone too.

 

_“Are you bleeding? I smell the blood just you know.” Warm fingers rub his shoulders, drawing soothing circles._

_“I’m okay Isaac. Go back to the pack,” Stiles grumbles and pushes the pouting boy._

_“You’re not.”_

_“I am, now leave and don’t come back. Your alpha doesn’t like me very much.”_

_Isaac sighed but actually did as Stiles demanded._

_“Stiles, you’re scaring me,” he says as he leaves. “You smell like dying.”_

_“I am not dying, stupid.”_

**_“Decorate my corps with_ **

**_Tiny bits of glitter_ **

**_For me I will_ **

**_Exist eternally.”_ **

He was calm and he didn't do anything that would harm him. He just took sleeping pills so he wouldn't be afraid to dream.

It was too much to remind himself that he was still in this place because he was scared to do something about it. So he slept with the help of the pills. Slept from morning to afternoon, ignored lunch and dinner and breakfast and slept more than one should. He always felt comfortably numb after that and his life was okay. He learned how to deal with it and he was kind of proud.

His dad rarely came home these days and Stiles didn’t ask because it was simpler if there was no one but you and only you alone. So he stepped back from every person he’d ever spoken to and only showed up for exams in school.

That was his life and he was okay with it.

 

_He is really dying. Not the kind of philosophical dying but the real thing._

_His limbs are too weak like his protesting immune system and every step feels so heavy and tiresome. He didn't like to move and using his sorry excuse for a human body._

_Death crushes him with pleasure like a chew toy and he doesn’t protest._

_He can’t protest anymore._

_He sleeps._

“Derek!”

He looks up, both browns raised and puts away the novel in his hand.

“Scott,” he greets, not sure what is happening.

“Stiles,” the boy pants with wide eyes, his heart beat unsteady and scared which infects Derek as well.

“What’s with Stiles? Breathe, Scott.”

“He’s unconscious and Mom took him straight to the ER! He smells like death, holy fuck, Stiles is dying!”

His mind goes blank.

Stiles is dying.

He thinks it’s ridiculous.

Stiles is dying.

Still ridiculous.

The boy he once has trusted is dying.

His throat feels suddenly too tight to breathe enough and he chokes.

Stiles will be gone like his family.

He growls furiously and storms out of the house.


	2. Hello my friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's mourning and there's the funeral.

_“Derek, you are such an idiot.”_

He’d agree unconditionally but it’s too late for one of Laura’s comments.

Defying the urge to flee, he gathers himself and breathes deeply until he looks up. Suddenly feeling 16 again, he's standing in front the hospital and possibly, he looks a bit lost because people are giving him worried looks. It's not that they're wrong.

“Derek! Calm down!” Scott’s voice sounds funny and he wants to snap right back at his beta that he can't throw commands at him, but then he remembers why he's here in the first place again. What would Stiles do now? Stiles has always tried to be cheerful back then and it has felt like that bit of things that won't change, no matter how much you twist tit. And Derek? Derek has grabbed him and shaken him and then punched him, yelling that he shouldn't fool him.

Derek thinks of those empty eyes.

He thinks about the warm, brown ones Stiles used to have and the wide smile that stretches across the whole face. He misses it and he tries remember when _his_ Stiles disappeared and got replaced by a soulless double. He can't recall though and there’s the unpleasant feeling of an arriving headache and Scott’s fastening heartbeat hammering strongly at the back of his mind. Additionally, the smell of wood and sorrow makes him snap out of his thoughts.

Isaac. His pack.

There’s the smell of danger, illness, death and unspoken words and he wants to vomit all over the floor because this is the thing he can't endure. Last time he stood in this hallway, his uncle got stitched up and put into artificial coma. The time before, they made him wait in the long, stoical hallway and then told him that they were very sorry for his loss.

“C’mon Derek, he’s a fighter. He’s gonna be alright.”

No, he thinks, you know as well as I do.

“Derek, he’s upstairs, now c’mon. You’re scaring Isaac!”

Stiles will be dead. Derek doesn’t care about Isaac at the moment.

“Derek!”

There is shouting. There are shattered wishes. Doctors in white lab clothes are rushing upstairs and Derek doesn’t understand. Scott’s eyes grow unbelievably big and round and Isaac lower lip trembles. What is this?

What is this kind of joke fate’s making with them?

What is this empty bowl?

What has he done?

He fell onto the cold floor and then deeper and deeper.

Just like his slipping anchor.

 

_“You should smile more often. That surely feels great, doesn’t it grumpy pants? Hey don’t tickle me!”_

Stiles died on a Thursday.

They couldn’t do anything about his heart and his body was too weak to accept help.

Derek cries alone for a week before he gets up and burns Stiles’ things. He doesn’t open the love letter for Lydia Stiles has once written, doesn’t stare very long at The Hobbit decorated with flower stickers and a sock as bookmark and doesn’t bury his nose in the forgotten hoodie. It’s red of course.

He burns them with fire, hungry and wild.

He keeps the dead phone though.

_“I love this phone, okay? What? No! It’s not because I have my porn folder on it. Shut up Derek!”_

Derek smiles but it fades as fast as Stiles face does before his blurry eyes.

He’s really lost him.

He won’t be there with his smartass attitude when Derek snaps at him.

He will never be here again.

Derek cries again.

 

_“Hey buddy, I guess this world is nice. I mean it’s nice as long as I don’t get turned into a giant dildo by a masochistic witch or...yeah, I get it! I don’t continue that! And there is lots of failing and many disappointments. But in general? It’s nice. I treasure it.”_

_He grinned with sparkly eyes and a curly fry in the corner of his mouth._

_That moment Stiles seemed so close and vulnerable and Derek wanted to reply he knew exactly what Stiles meant._

**_“Do you fear_ **

**_The unknown?_ **

**_So wake up my friend_ **

**_My brave soldier.”_ **

****

Derek wakes up with streaming tears and a sore throat.

Stiles phone’s been destroyed under the weight of his arms but it’s revealing a carefully folded paper in the middle of the remains now.

For a moment Derek doesn’t believe his eyes nor his luck but then he remembers.

It’s Stiles after all.

So he picks up the letter and begins to read.

 

“Hey Derek (please give him this if he was too dumb to find it),

 

I guess you’re wondering with pitched eyebrows why the idiot’s writing you. Don’t be worried, it’s actually the last letter I can write (I'm sorry my fingers are kinda trembling a looot).

I’m sure you’re questioning everything possible about your life but let me get this straight.

I didn't hang out with you to fucking use you. See, you're a complete idiot and bastard for most of the time but hey! To me you were always a funny guy who just needed to get that stick out of his ass. You know your threats aren’t that scary as you might hope. Might explain why you still keep making them even though they suck, I'm sure Isaac can be scarier.

The thing with Kate – of course I’m sorry but this wasn’t something you could know. Well, I mean I’ve got the feeling that something was out of place but you just looked so peaceful and content. Remember I told you to be cautious, sourwolf?

I didn’t want to take that happiness away from you.

Blame me, blame her, but don’t blame yourself.

You always like to play the hero but don’t. This will be too much for you to handle even though you now have friends who aren’t jerks like Whittemore. (Tell him thanks for making snide remarks at me. He's even worse than you at making people uncomfortable.)

You gotta promise me one thing, okay?

Stop pretending to be a tough guy.

You’re not okay and don’t tell me otherwise, I've known you for years and yes, you shut me out of your damn life and I hate you for it, but you will never stop to be not important. Oh man, this is so cheesy, but you have to bear with me.

Promise me that you will stop with those silly disguise, I don't want things to be like this forever! I worked so hard with shitty puns to keep you entertained, this is at least something you can do for me. Okay, no I'm joking, but keep in mind what I've said?

See ya big guy

 

Stiles”

 

The handwriting is horrible and shaky and he could understand why Stiles apologized for it.

Most of the letters seem to fall apart and there are suspicious blotches with dried, dark red liquid.

Derek wonders how Stiles still manages to annoy him even though he’s dead.

“He’s dead,” he murmurs in a never ending chain and goes back to sleep.

 

_When he was a kid, they would tell him death wasn’t scary._

_Well, shit. He’s dead now and it’s scarier than the cooking skills of his kind neighbor Mrs. Rompson who is 67 and makes the worst pumpkin pie in the world. So, it's extremely fucking scary._

_To explain further the place isn't actually dark nor is it really bright. There aren’t any freakish souls floating around him three feet above and he still hasn’t heard any harp music._

_It’s only quiet and timeless and he fidgets with his hands and tries to walk around, but after five minutes it's still this complete utter nothingness._

_“If I’d know I get an afterlife, I wouldn’t die in the first place suckers!” He pouts and sits down even though there is, right, nothing! But he's able to  rest his legs so it’s not a thing he has to think about for now._

_He’s dead anyways._

_“Stiles.”_

_Soft breath strokes his neck, warm and welcoming and alarming cold hands wrap around his stomach, like a snake._

_And suddenly he knows he’s in danger._

It’s the second day after it happened.  
One day after the heart of _his friend_ stopped beating, two weeks until the funeral and of course nobody invites him.

The sheriff doesn’t even leave his house anymore and Derek suspects that Mr. Stilinski doesn’t want to attend the burial, albeit it's his son whom he will bid farewell.

It’s too overwhelming for the older man because he, too, has not expected Stiles' death at the young age of 23.

Two years younger than Derek.

Too young to die alone in the ugly jeep he proudly called his own.

It’s so surreal.

 

_“Don’t mope around Derek! Go outside, take a shower, be yourself. Actually don't be yourself, you will frighten the poor children.” Stiles furrows his brows and hoisted up the black haired young man with the swollen eyes from crying._

_“Go away Stiles” was what the 14 years old get in return._

_“I won’t let you keep bawling your eyes out in this disgusting place, man! Now c’mon! Get your sorry ass up!”_

_“Stiles! Get the fuck out!”_

They had that conversation five days after the fire and they didn’t talk about it until Derek learns about Kate’s true motives. He blames her first, then his family, Laura, Stiles and then himself because there wasn’t anybody left to blame.

Stiles hasn’t said a thing back then, but has nodded like Derek was right.

Derek wasn’t right, he was being a pathetic douche bag and Stiles was too nice to him.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” he whispers.

He’s too late.

 

_“Who are you?” He coughs._

_Blood covers his arms and his right eye is blind and hurting. There are cuts on his cheeks, his both legs are maybe even broken._

_He’s getting bashed to death and die a second time while being dead? Not funny and fuck you._

_“I’m Hilda.” The shapeless voice answers with a chuckle. “I need you for my plan, little soul, you don’t need to know that much.”_

_“Me in a plan? That can't turn out good unless you want to bore everyone to death” he spits out. “And I'm very bad and following rules. Also I talk too much and too fast so nobody would listen to your evil threatening. I suggest you get another dead kid to get it done for you.”_

_“Oh my, what a noisy little fly. Now be a good servant for me, yes? Look! I’ll send you to your world again, so don’t cry, my darling. Soon you will be reunited with your friends, especially your lovely alpha.”_

_Stiles wants to interrupt her for the crying part because hell no, he wasn't. But then sticky, black drops drip on his lips, into his mouth and the last thing he chokes out is a strangled “Derek”._

_Achingly, his sight changes to a lurid red, forcing out the screams of agony from his throat. He sees soft, blonde curls when he drifts off._

_“Run!”_

Scott knocks at his door on Sunday with a bag of groceries and when Derek didn't open the door immediately, he started to shout obscenities at the house. The Hale didn't even had an option.

Defeated, Derek let him and his girlfriend who somehow always tagged along even though she was an Argent in. Snatching the bag from the couple, he hands the bag to Isaac and tells him to sort everything into the fridge. Afterwards he sits down slowly on the couch with the terrible patterns that Isaac’s chosen and glares daggers at Scott.

Allison sends worried glances to both of them, but then Scott just shrugs and takes a seat, directly facing his alpha. It was alright, his eyes might reveal, but then no one says a thing and the room's filled with suspension. Waiting for one of them to start, Allison coughs dramatically. But as she sees that it didn't do anything at all, she just goes for it. 

“You should go. He’d appreciate it,” Allison smiles apologetically and Scott joins her with his puppy look.

Derek knows how Stiles would react to this duo: First, he'd groan and clasps his hands in front of his eyes. Second, he'd say yes. And he would want Derek to agree as well. But this isn’t how it works for _Derek_.

“No.”

“But Derek! You were practically inseparable! He told me about you for hours before I even met you which made me think that you don't even exist! Fuck, Derek! You were so... damn important to him,” Scott tries, hiding his fury behind a harsh scowl.

“No is still no. As you said: I "was". But not anymore, he wouldn't want me there.”

"You can't even be there for him when he..." 

With an angry hiss Scott stands up and storms out of the house, slamming the door so hard that the lacquered wood cracks. Baffled at the display of violence, Allison opens her mouth and then closes it again when there weren't any fitting words to express her feelings. Derek didn't need words to understand though. He could see it: Her face is pale and hurt, but soon it is replaced by sheer determination which he respected her for and he nods at her. She smiles sadly in response. Scratching at her knuckles, she eyed Derek tight lipped and gets up from her place.

"Thank you for having us. I hope to see you in a few...weeks." She couldn't make the disappointment and resignation any clearer.

"You're welcome."

With a last sigh, Allison walks out of his destroyed door.

And Derek is disappointed at himself too.

So he makes lasagna for dinner.

_“If something ever happens, don’t sell my video games!”_

_Derek burst into a little laugh and examined Stiles who was half asleep next to him._

_“I call dips! If he dies, I’ll get the games,” Laura voiced from the next door, together with the giggling twins Noah and Liddy._

_“Nice, thank you Laura”, Stiles grumbled and rolled his more or less closed eyes._

_“Don’t worry! I’ll take care of your games, Stiles.” Derek nudged his friend fondly._

_“Know you will. Know you will, you go’amn mor’on,” Stiles slurred, smiling._

_“Y’are my fav’rite person aft’all.”_

His suit is black and simple .

Weary green eyes look back at him from the fogged mirror and he breathes deep in and out.

Erica and Boyd never really had a funeral because they’re not dead but Stiles is and Derek guesses Stiles would like to have them all there. Even him.

“You’ll do it for him,” he tells his reflection and combs his hair back with the right hand.

“You’ll pay back because he was always there.”

It’s at least something he could do for Stiles.

This time he can’t do anything wrong and even if, Stiles won’t be there to mock him.

_“Woah Mr. I-fucked-this-up-like-the-892-times-before, still too proud to give me a ride? Hmm, then I have to tell my Dad about the 262. time, when you dropped the drink over Clarice’s new dress.”_

Derek misses the mocking terribly.

 

_“I’m sorry, Derek. I’m…” he trailed off, interrupted by the waves of sobs._

_“Stiles.”_

_“Why? Why has it to be her?”_

_“Stiles.”_

_“Laura!“ The sobbing grew stronger with each minute, accompanied with hiccups and the sole thing Derek could do was to watch Stiles breaking down in front of the corpse of his older sister._

_“Stiles.”_

Lydia Martin picks him up five minutes later because in her opinion, he’s far too dangerous with his Camaro and his mental state, so with a muttered insults he allows her to drive because otherwise she'll separate his head from his neck .

Derek doesn’t know why Stiles has crushed on her since primary school.

Maybe it’s the perfect hair, maybe it’s her IQ or maybe it’s her aura that makes her seems to be unbelievably superior and the rest of the world as low and stupid peasants.

But maybe it’s just because she’s out of Stiles league, so he knows that he’ll never have something with her.

Derek frowns.

It’s none of his business. He shouldn’t do that, overthinking things while faking complete composure and wondering over Stiles' object of attraction. He didn't want to think about Stiles and romance in the same sentence at all. It didn't seem right.

Derek shook his head and he’s strangely glad that that's the moment, when they stop and Lydia ushers him out of the car before he can tell her he’s changed his mind.

 

“Boy, you have to go. Release him from his suffering. Now come!”

She takes his arm and pulls him towards the little crowd, gathered in a circle in front of the fresh dug grave.

There are people from Stiles’ high school that Stiles still had contact with, some guys from his part-time job at the music shop around the corner and the pack. Let's say the rest of the pack.

Stiles dad hasn’t come.

 

“You'll be missed, Stiles,” he hears the boy, Danny or Daniel, saying with a raspy voice before he hears someone else and it's a honey sweet voice, literally making him want to gag, but at the same time causing the all hair on his neck standing up. He knows the voice and he fears it. He couldn't believe it.

Tardily Derek turns around.

 

“Hello my friends. And Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE TOO FAST FOR MY TASTE.  
> Now I'm tired, ugh.  
> I know, I know! Cliffhanger, urgh! But I want to make this a longtime project so I'm very sorry!  
> But I hope you still enjoy it, even though it's a bit too angsty for my taste lmao.
> 
> Leave me some comments and kudos if ya liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> OH GOD I AM SO SORRY!  
> This is my first time writing something like this and English is a foreign language to me who grew up bilingual with German and Chinese!  
> UGGGGGH!  
> I hope you liked the story so far...or interesting enough to wait for the next chapter I'm gonna write if I don't end up in tears!
> 
> Leave some comments and kudos, will ya?


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